>>4793124"Oh hell no. Who told you you can put your pants on?" You grabbed her hand and dragged her back to the crime scene, pants midway down her hips still. "You'll help me pick all my shit back up, carry it to my car, see me drive off, and only then you're allowed to cover up."
"Huh? Oh, okay. Really just want to see a girl's bare ass in front of you for a little longer, old pervert?"
"Yes. Now get going. Chop, chop!" You'd rather see her tits instead, but there was no way if making that happen.
You let her in a cloud of dust and car exhaust, somewhat proud of yourself for humiliating Mori in a way that she won't soon forget and, as a result, will not bother you ever again, glad to put this awful page behind you, and of course she wrote down your license plate and used it to find out where you live.
There really was no escape. The episode near the fountain managed to awaken something in her, as you were worried, and she no longer sought any privacy, neither for fighting you nor for getting her ass beat, on the contrary, basking in the attention. Her constantly showing up at your house for challenges on top of that was driving you insane at first, but then became almost preferred, due to the civilized nature of these attacks. Mori eagerly accepted all tips regarding fighting itself (besides "stop trying to fight me and find another hobby") and demanded nothing from you with regards to the ass-beating, other than having it happen. You used it as leverage to at least keep her more predictable, making it clear that you can do it more comfortably and longer in the privacy of your house. She still clearly desired the attention and shame, and would still sometimes ambush you in public for this reason, but it was happening less and less frequently.
You ended up forming a somewhat amicable relationship. She'd show up at your house on schedule — not even for "challenges" at this point, but for sparring and practice. After this, she submitted to a spanking, for as long and as hard as you wanted — it was a complete coincidence that your preferred poses involved her pressing her giant milk jugs that barely fit into her track suit right against your chest — and then you'd have tea or harder drinks together. She brought with her a cushion with a picture of a rabbit-human hybrid she said she nicked from her girlfriend, which she put down on your hardwood bench to make sitting down bearable. Sometimes, depending on the mood, you didn't let her use the cushion either.
In April, you showed her a craft project you spent a bit of time on, made personally for her — a handmade wooden paddle, with holes drilled in it for cutting down air resistance. She broke two of her usual habits. It was the first time she gave you instructions, asking you to take her panties down for it. It was also the first time you have ever managed to make her cry.
After the fourth shot of tequila, you figured it was a good opportunity to ask.
"Say, what do you get out of this? You've been my student for almost a year now, and I still don't really get it. It doesn't even sound like a sex thing to me any more."
"Well..." Mori got lost in thought for a few seconds. "I don't know how to say this. I grew up without a father, and my mother was neglectful at best. I'm kind of molding you into a father figure. Manipulating you into doing what I think a real dad should be like, the way I imagined it as a child, I suppose. Except now that you found out, it wouldn't work any more, so I need to find another sixty-year old."
You blinked twice. "I'm forty-three. Also, did you seriously intend me to believe any of this bullshit?"
She laughed out loud. "No, of course not. You had it right the first time, it's literally just a sex thing. Well. Uh. Not literally, I mean, I'm not going to bone you, sorry if you had plans, and I'm in a committed relationship, but I like it. The pain, the humiliation, I keep them fresh in my mind at home to get a good nut. My shitbird of a girlfriend won't do it for me, don't get me wrong, I would kill you if you'd even think of insulting her, but she's the bottomest bottom to ever bottom, so I have this instead."
"And the fighting?"
"Started as a way to injure and humiliate myself, but I really got into it thanks to you. I would still come over just for the training now if you'd refused to do anything else, but the spanking is what really gets me going. You know, you have a way of working me over in a way that, literally no matter how I sit down for the whole day afterwards, it still hurts so bad. Dude, it's so fucking based."
"...Based on what?"
The answer she gave you made sense, but it was the last one you'd expected. 3/3 END